#162 Looks

by Cathy Bryant

I could see her through the blinds of his office: face and breasts tip-tilted towards him, tongue playing over scarlet lips. And he holding forth and she drinking it in like gospel.

I wanted to kill her. I daydreamed of a knife in that creamy throat, a boulder crushing her skull, ruining that shining curtain of hair. It’s OK to think about it. It’s harmless. Who hasn't thought about it?